


the ring

by jaimelanniser



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 16:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimelanniser/pseuds/jaimelanniser
Summary: Jaime is driving Sansa crazy with this whole 'not proposing' thing.





	the ring

Sansa found the ring the day after he’d bought it.

She hadn’t been snooping; she  _hadn’t_ , but she’d lost her phone charger and sometimes they got theirs mixed up, so it had been only natural that she’d started going through his drawers. Even the one he kept locked with a key that she was pretty sure he didn’t know that she knew where he hid it.

In hindsight, there would have been no reason for Jaime to store a phone charger in his locked drawer where he kept passports and money and a couple of other valuables, but Sansa hadn’t been thinking about that, she’d just really needed her charger.

So it hadn’t been there, clearly, but the ring  _had_ , in a little black velvet box, and her heart had thumped hard against her chest as she’d opened it to find the delicate band of silver with the princess cut diamond encrusted into it.

It felt like cheating, so she quickly shut the box and shut the drawer and locked it and threw away the key like she’d never known of its existence in the first place.

Jaime came home that night and Sansa’s heart sped up even though she was watching TV and he came in complaining about how exhausted he was; he hated working at his father’s company. He fell into the couch next to her and buried his head into her shoulder and Sansa ran her fingers through his golden locks the way he loved, gently soothing his hard day away.

“Why do you stay?” Sansa asked, every time he came home with heavy eyes and renewed disappointment in the world.

And every time, Jaime would turn those tired green eyes up to her and smile bitterly with the same response, “To fix it.”

And she loved him.

When she woke up that Sunday, he was already up, and the smell of sizzling bacon drew her to the kitchen, but not before she stopped by the bathroom to fix her hair and brush her teeth. With a hammering heart, she made her way to where Jaime was cooking breakfast.

The table was set for two and the sunlight was streaming through the curtains, and Jaime was beautiful in briefs that hugged his hips in a way that made her tongue feel heavy in her mouth.

But breakfast was just that, breakfast, and when Jaime came up behind her and kissed the side of her throat, Sansa leaned back into him with a sigh and wondered how much longer this torture would last until he finally went through with it.

By mid-week a few days later, Sansa could help it no longer, and she rung him up after class. “Do you want to go out to eat tonight?”

“Tonight?” Jaime’s voice came confused from the other end. “… did I forget something?”

Well, at this rate it seemed like he was forgetting about his damn purchase, but Sansa would  _not_  admit to having found it, so she kept her lips sealed tight. “Nope,” she returned. “Just thought we could have date night.”

His laugh was golden to her ears, and she couldn’t hold back the leap of her stomach when he agreed and said he’d make reservations somewhere nice.

It took her all afternoon to get ready for dinner, doing her hair up nice, putting on makeup and even donning one of her evening dresses, low-cut, sleek and elegant; one of Jaime’s favourites.

They met at the restaurant, where he came straight after work, and it only dawned on her as they were being walked to their table that Jaime would have needed to stop by their flat to pick up the ring if he intended to propose tonight.

Her disappointment must have shown on her face because Jaime frowned at her when they were sat opposite each other. “Is something the matter?” he asked her, reaching across the table with his left hand, seeking out her own.

Sansa let out a sigh. But she couldn’t say anything! So she forced a smile and allowed his hand to slide into hers, giving it a squeeze. “No, no… just stressed; deadlines are catching up to me.”

“We can find some way to relieve your tension when we get back home, I’m sure,” he offered her with that stupidly sexy smirk of his, and Sansa couldn’t hold back a little smile of her own, even as the waiter came to take their orders.

Two more weeks went by without even so much as a mention of a ring, and Sansa had just about had it. What was the purpose of buying a damn ring if he wasn’t going to propose to her?

She began to panic – was it for somebody else? Was it even still there? Or had some other woman left it at their flat while she was gone?

But no, she had to calm herself that night, as she lay next to him on their bed, staring up at the ceiling. Jaime adored her; he would  _never_. He was just very stupid and very slow. Yes, anger helped soothe her.

However, the situation was going to drive her crazy, and crazy Sansa was something nobody wanted to deal with. Not even herself if she was being honest. It had been  _weeks. Weeks!_  Of waiting and wishing and more waiting, and her heart and stomach couldn’t take it any longer.

Sansa sat up all of a sudden, dragging the covers with her, and she could see Jaime’s startled eyes turning to her in the darkness. “San–?”

“Are you going to ask me to marry you or not?” she demanded angrily.

There was silence afterwards, in which all she could hear was her own heartbeat thudding against her chest. In that moment, she felt like a little girl, much too young and immature, not even being able to handle patience.

Jaime rose onto his elbows, frowning at her. “What?”

Dammit. “I saw the ring, okay?” she admitted, colour rising to her cheeks with guilt. “You’ve had it for weeks and I keep thinking that you’re going to propose but then you  _don’t_  and I can’t deal with it anymore. So are you going to propose or not? Just tell me so I can put it out of my mind once and for all.”

More silence, and then Jaime laughed, quietly, his shoulders starting to shake. More colour flooded her face, and Sansa wanted to shove a pillow into his face. “Oh, Sansa,” Jaime chuckled, reaching over for her shoulder and tugging her back down onto the mattress.

He rolled over so he was lying half on top of her, his lips pulled back into a smile, dimples and all, and Sansa was basically pouting. “Why are you so impossible?” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her.

“Mmf–” Sansa protested, turning her face away from his mouth. She didn’t want kisses, she wanted answers!

“Do you know how much pressure I have to propose to you the right way?” Jaime finally asked her, his fingers drawing small circles down her neck and chest. “You, who’ve been dreaming about engagements and big white weddings and fairytales since you were four? Everything I came up with seemed to pale in comparison to what your expectations must be.”

She stared at him, lips slightly parted, and Jaime raised an eyebrow at her, tilting his face. “I’ve been agonising over how to give you the best proposal for weeks, as you’ve said. Of course, how could I expect Sansa Stark to wait around for me forever?”

She felt foolish all over again, and she shut her eyes for a moment before opening them back up to look at this man; this wonderful,  _stupidly_  romantic man who was all hers. “I just want to get married to you,” she finally whispered. “Any proposal from you will be better than anything I could have ever dreamed up.”

There was vulnerability in his eyes as he looked back at her, leaning down to kiss her again, softly, in the darkness of their bedroom where they lay in their pyjamas. “Okay, then,” Jaime whispered in return, rolling off her and digging out his key.

Sansa’s stomach flipped and turned and she felt flutterings in her chest as she waited for him to return. And then he did, and the ring was there, between his fingers, held up for her to take. “Will you marry me?”

It wasn’t a grand proposal, and it wasn’t tear-inducing or a constructed scenario of their best moments together, but it was  _them_ , and it was  _him_ , and Sansa couldn’t even find the words to say yes, but she nodded and nodded, and tugged him down to kiss him deeply, like she would for every day for the rest of their lives.


End file.
